Tor settled into the tavern for the evening. He had heard of the oppressive nature of Thuldrin Kreed and was in search of inspiration to deal with the brute. Thus, he turned to the one place that he was most comfortable. "Barkeep, an ale please." After a decent mug of ale - he suspected it might be watered down to up Kreed's profits, but couldn't be sure - he heard tell of the sickness that had been spreading among the populace. "Miss, some stew and another ale, if you please." She seemed younger than most barmaids but she might be of age. At least he hoped so seeing the eyes of so many men upon her.
As he ate the surprising good stew and appreciated a better mug of ale, he turned his thoughts to the disease. Oppression by a disreputable man will linger, 'tis true. But oppression by disease is something else. The folk could rise up if need be against Thuldrin; however, they are hard pressed to revolt against something they can not see.
With a nod more to himself than anyone else, Tor resolved to do see what his might and soul could do for the cause of healing this village.
That decided, he asked, "Miss, does the owner of this good house allow tabs or does he require that men pay their due?" He has a coin in hand to show that he is not in need of the credit.
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This might cause issues for Tor but we'll see.